


Sleeplessness

by Wandererzaehler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Big Brother Dean, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Human Castiel in the Bunker, Insomniac Castiel, Men of Letters Bunker, No Destiel, Season 9(-ish), Tea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-03
Updated: 2017-07-03
Packaged: 2018-11-22 21:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11388360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandererzaehler/pseuds/Wandererzaehler
Summary: Since Cas has moved into the Bunker he hasn't slept through a single night. He finally asks Dean for some help that ends up to be a heart-to-heart talk. Features a lent pajama, steps, manly tea, an overly-neccessary rant and a discarded blanket (not neccessarily in this order). No Destiel. Season 9-ish, AU for obvious reasons. Fluff with some angst. / Enjoy! R&R





	Sleeplessness

_Disclaimer: I make no profit out of this. Sadly, I don't own Supernatural either. Enjoy!_

* * *

 

**Sleeplessness**

Dean groans into the darkness of his room and tries to bury his head deeper in his pillow to shut off the noise.

A door opens and closes with a soft thud. Steps move down the hallway, past Dean's room, and to the bathroom three doors down.  
A short time after, the person generating the steps moves the same way back again.

He knew when Cas moved into the Bunker there would be some downsides, but he didn't expect this: Castiel has been living in the Bunker for the past five days now, but he hasn't slept through a single night.

This is the fifth time in the last two hours Castiel has gone to the bathroom, and when Dean himself went there half an hour ago, he saw light shining out from under Cas' door.

Usually Dean, who isn't the soundest sleeper himself, wouldn't think of complaining, but what precious shut-eye he normally gets is interrupted by Castiel's irregular nightly walk-abouts, and with even less sleep than usual, Dean's noticed laps in concentration.  
If he isn't able to focus on a hunt, he could easily get himself killed, or Sam, or Castiel.

That is the reason why Dean had been planning to say something about it the morning before – but when he saw the dark circles under Cas' bloodshot, tired eyes, he thought better of it, ignoring the fact that he doesn't look that different in a mirror.

Only ten minutes later, when Dean has almost drifted off to sleep, Castiel's door creaks open again, but isn't closed immediately. He appears to be hesitating. In this moment of silence Dean's tired mind tries to sort out whether he's imagined the sound.

Knock knock knock.

Dean sits up in his bed slowly, running a hand through his short hair in a tired movement.

“Yeah”, he grumbles, reaching for the light switch.

Castiel appears and leans against the doorframe. His voice is hoarse as he whispers: “I am sorry to disturb your sleep, Dean.”

“I wasn't sleeping.” Dean wearily moves his hand from his hair to his face, rubbing his burning, tired eyes.

“Can I come in? I don't want to interrupt Sam's sleep as well.”

Stifling a sigh, Dean answers: “Sure. What is it?”

“I've been wondering if maybe you could give me some advise on how I can get myself to sleep.”

“Go to bed, lie down, close your eyes, go to sleep.”

The irritated sentence pops out of Dean's mouth before he can stop it, but Castiel doesn't seem to mind. He's not good at judging whether Dean is miffed at the best of times anyway, but Dean breathes a sigh of relief when Cas just shrugs.

“I've tried that already. It doesn't seem to do any good.” Cas tilts his head and frowns: “Does that mean there's something wrong with me?”

If it happens each and every night, then probably, yes.

“No, of course not. Happens to all of us.”

Cas smiles, relieved, and asks inquiringly: “Then what is it you do when you can't go to sleep?”

Dean considers the question for a moment: “When I can't, I don't.”

Cas frowns again: “Is this normal human behaviour? Do all people just stay awake when they have trouble sleeping?”

Dean smiles bleakly: “When have we ever been normal people, Cas? You should know, you were a friggin' angel not too long ago.”

Something in Cas' eyes shifts, making Dean feel uncomfortable: He should know better than to remind Castiel of what he's lost so recently.

“I'm sorry.”

Cas nods.

Despite the five o'clock shadow on his face he looks like a child in the too long pajama Sam has lend to him and Dean can't help but take pity on him. Grumbling, he grabs his bathrobe from the chair next to his bed and slips it on.

“Let's try what usually works on me, alright?”

What used to work on me once upon a time, when my dreams didn't feature various ways of how the world could end, or my brother or Castiel winding up dead.  
Again.

Cas follows Dean down the hallway, a left, a right, down two stairs and into the kitchen.

“Sit”, Dean orders him, gesturing to the table while he sets water to boil and prepares two mugs with bags of tea. “We'll get you into bed in no time.”

While he's moving around the kitchen, he almost feels Cas' eyes bore into him in his usual and by now weirdly familiar piercing way, watching Dean's every move. Dean has been trying to figure out how Cas is feeling, now that he's human, but so far he's had no luck. Castiel is as unreadable and complicated as ever.

He pours the boiling water into the mugs, adding huge amounts – 'ridicolously big heaps', as Sam would certainly say – of honey as well and slips one of the mugs to Cas before sitting down opposite of him.

Cas seems to be at a loss, curiously watching Dean with his tired-looking eyes: “What do we do now?”

“Now”, Dean can barely keep out the amusement in his voice, “now we drink this.”

Castiel examines the mug thoroughly, even going so far as to sniff the tea just as if he's expecting Dean to have slipped a secret ingredient into the mix.

He finally comes to a conclusion and declares: “But this is merely tea with honey. How should this drink help me falling asleep?”

Dean chuckle turns into a yawn. “I don't know, Cas, it just does. With me it helps. Look man, the harder you try to fall asleep the more awake you become. If you want the psychological explanation, go ask Sam. Now drink your tea so we can both get some badly needed beauty sleep.”

Cas obediently takes a sip and reflexively spits part of the tea out again, making it run down his chin as he sets down the mug hurriedly, his eyes widening in comic astonishment. “It's so hot!”

Dean snorts into his own tea: “I feel we should introduce you to more drinks than just beer... You should let it cool down first.”

“You told me to drink up”, Cas complains, and Dean chuckles as he gets up to grab a towel and throws it to Cas for cleaning up purposes.

Half in earnest, half in jest Dean scolds his friend: “Don't always listen to what I tell you, Cas.”

A fleeting smile crosses Castiel's face and for a moment the two men grin at each other. Then Cas' gaze drops to the tabletop and his brooding expression returns as he stirs his tea absent-mindedly.

Dean's hands tighten around the mug in his hands as he searches his brain for something to say and make Cas' uneasy expression go away, but it is Cas who suddenly blurts out what's on his mind: “I'm not sure whether you want me to live here or not.”

“Want you to live here? What are you talking about? Sam and I, we...”

“Dean. You have been faced with numerous challenges lately and... I've been thinking that maybe the two of you need some time to talk things over without anyone interrupting your discussions.”

Dean chuckles mirthlessly: “Oh please, it's not like Sam and I would talk more if you weren't around. We'd probably smash each other's heads in if it weren't for you.”

“I believe that is an unlikely scenario.”

“Honestly I hope you're right, because some days I'm not so sure about that.”

Cas' face remains carefully blank and the hunter frowns in exasperation: “Wait, is this what you are so worried about that you can't go to sleep? You think Sam and I don't want you here?”

Cas tries his tea again and this time seems satisfied with its temperature. After a few swallows Dean feels are his way to carefully work out what he's going to say next, he sets the mug down again and meets Dean's eyes: “Dean, if my being here is an interference in any way, I will leave this instant.”

He hesitates for a second before adding: “As soon as it is light, that is. I'm not yet sure whether I'll find my way around town. The work you do is too important to be hindered in any way, especially by someone like me, and I think that maybe... I can always come back later, and until then I'll... 'make do' as all the other human beings on this planet do. As of now – with me being human – my presence here is of no great avail to you.”

Dean shakes his head in disbelief and sets his own mug down with so much force the tea he's barely tried sips over the edge and onto the table, leaving red splatters everywhere.

“Let me stop you right there. You may be right when you say that we've been through hell and back again more times than I can count – but so have you! I mean, look at you, you can't even deal with insomnia because in all the millennia of your existence you never actually had to sleep! Cas, you will always be my friend. How many times do I have to tell you that you're family? Now more than ever? You don't have to go through this on your own. We've been in messes before, and we've always figured out a way because that's what we do. We'll figure out how to get your grace back, we'll kick Metatron in the ass and sent him wherever he belongs. I don't really care whether you're human or a damn angel zapping around – and honestly, I never liked you zapping in on me all the time, because man, privacy and all...”

Dean's voice is firm and steady, but he gets up and begins pacing up and down the kitchen restlessly.

“Look, what I'm trying to say is this: You'll always have a home here, with me, with Sam. There's always gonna be room for you in our lives, and nuisance as you are, I'd miss you if you were gone.”

Dean has himself worked up so much he would've continued on for quite a while longer if there wasn't the sound of steps in the hallway interrupting him.

Sam stumbles into the kitchen, his hair in weird shape as he blinks into the light worriedly: “Is something going on here? Something happened?”

“Nope, just a case of insomnia here. What about yourself, Aurora? Sleep well?”

“Don't call me names, Dean.”

Sam slumps down onto the chair next to Cas: “Until I heard you rant, yes, I slept well. Now that you woke me up, is there any chance I'll get some tea, too?”

“Sure.”

“Dean?”, Cas' voice has gone up a pitch, and Dean looks back over his shoulder with a smile as encouraging as Dean can manage this late or, rather, this early: “I meant what I said. You're welcome to stay. Indefinitely.”

“Yeah, sure”, Sam backs him up, “do stay here, Cas. Hey, Dean, you know that we have some camomile tea in the cupboard as well, don't you? People usually don't drink... What kind of tea is this supposed to be?”

Dean shoots him an annoyed look: “I don't do camomile, Sam. This is proper man's tea suited for all hours, especially two o' clock in the morning.”

Sam opens his mouth to answer, but Castiel interrupts him by stating: “For some reason I thought this tea is strawberry-vanilla flavoured. In what way is this better suited for men than camomile tea?”

While Dean's cheeks redden, Sam and Castiel smirk at each other, then the smirk turns into a laugh.

“Alright, dammit, I just so happen to actually enjoy this tea and I stand by that! No tea for you, Sam, unless you make some yourself.”

Dean sits down on his chair with as much dignity as he can muster and begins sipping his tea, trying to ignore their continued laughter.

“So this is what I get when I give you a home and get up in the middle of the night to make you tea...”, Dean huffs indignantly, but Castiel's face plainly showing his mind is relieved rewards him for his loss of sleep more than generously.

This time Cas apparently realises Dean isn't really annoyed by him because he now empties his tea in one go and gives them one of his rare real smiles: “Thank you. Sam, Dean, I think I need to go to bed now.” A long yawn Cas doesn't bother to cover up emphasizes his statement. “Good night.”

“Sleep well”, Sam calls after him and then turns to Dean: “What was all this about?”

“Nothing. Just Cas worrying overmuch.”

* * *

 

Sam leaves for his own bed soon after he's drunken his tea, but Dean remains sitting in the kitchen. He can still see Cas' pale face and huge eyes looking at him with this lost expression that makes the hunter's stomach churn.

When he finally does leave, wandering around the hallways aimlessly for a while, Dean decides he's going to make more of an effort to make Cas feel like he belongs in the Bunker, belongs with them.

Cas' trench coat lays discarded in the Library as Dean passes, and he picks it up, carefully folding it up. On his way to bed he carefully opens Cas' door and peeks in when he sees light coming out from under the door, but Cas really is sound asleep in his bed. Apparently he's kicked out the blanket since it's lying on the floor, and he's discarded Sam's pajama pants as well, sleeping only in his boxers; sprawled out on the bed chest down. His head lies next to the pillow instead of on it, but that doesn't seem to bother him.

Dean puts the coat down on top of the rest of Castiel's piled up clothes and is already at the door when he turns around again. Castiel sprawled out over his bed reminds him so much of how Sam liked to sleep when he was younger it hurts, and Dean realises that now more than ever Castiel is his brother, maybe not in blood, but in everything else.

Cas is right: They've been through some shit lately.

After Dean has carefully looked down the hallway to ensure Sam isn't there lurking to make fun of him again, he picks up the blanket and carefully spreads it over his friend.

Dean switches off the lights and tiptoes out of Cas' room and to where his own bed is waiting for him.

They're going to figure this one out as well, he promises to himself. Up till now nothing has been able to stop the Winchesters and their angel friend, and even if said friend is now as human as they come, they'll still pull through somehow.

But there's still time to deal with all this in the morning; or whenever he's going to wake up the next day.

He pulls the duvet over himself and closes his eyes, feeling himself drift off gradually.


End file.
